


Christmas

by notjustmom



Series: Box of 64 [33]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Parentlock, because why not, christmas in july
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:55:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: a bit of angst...





	1. First Christmas

John stretched and yawned. Without opening his eyes, he knew Sherlock was already awake from the frenetic tapping next to him.

"She will barely be two at Christmas, she won't even understand all the fuss. She will like the lights and the wrapping paper and ribbons, and sitting in the boxes, it won't matter what is in the boxes." This was an old conversation, usually one-sided as Sherlock would continue to tap away, sigh and shake his head, mumble about the low-quality and high prices, but ignore John's words. "I know it's only a couple weeks away, and you are panicking -"

"Not panicking." Sherlock rubbed his eyes and closed the laptop. He crossed his arms and sighed. "I never liked Christmas. At least not when I became old enough to see it for what it was. My mum always went full-out, the biggest tree, the brightest lights, the crackers, stacks of gifts. She loves it, which I always found confusing considering how logical she always seemed to be as I was growing up - you'll see when we visit them. Dad just stays out of her way and helps hang the lights and the branches of the trees she can't quite reach, but it's her show. The other times of the year, she would be completely rational, and expect the same of us - I'm trying to find a way to understand - I want Rosie to enjoy the real things about this time of year: the scent of Mrs. Hudson's biscuits, the utterly ridiculous jumpers you wear, and yes, I want her to see the beauty of it, the fairy lights and the ornaments, the music, yes, I learned all of the carols - it was something Myc and I did - we played for the village, my mum had huge parties - now, I think she did it because of Eurus in some way - but I didn't understand that then, she missed her daughter, so she wanted to keep busy at the 'silly season' so she wouldn't have to feel anything - but, I don't want her to think we only love her at this time of year by showering her with plastic nonsense. I want to find her something that says all that."

John cleared his throat and nodded. "We never had much, but it was the one time of year when my father was fun, was nice, and he stayed off the booze somehow then. I never figured it out. I guess maybe it was the one time of year when his family functioned well, when he was a kid, I don't know. But every Christmas Eve he would read us 'Twas the Night Before Christmas,' and play for us, he had a fiddle that his grandfather had given him, he only played at Christmas, and he was a son of a bitch the rest of the year. I don't think there is a present you can give her that will tell her everything you want her to know."

"I'm discovering that. It's quite frustrating, considering all of the things one can purchase, and delivered overnight."

John smiled as Sherlock looked up at him.

"What?"

"You."

"What about me?" Sherlock looked away, a bit shyly.

"You just want so much for her."

Sherlock nodded, then mumbled under his breath, "I don't ever want her to feel unloved, John. I want her to know her happiness is important to me."

"She knows."

Sherlock snorted, and whispered, "How do you know?"

"The way she looks at you, how she curls up in your lap when you are reading her a story, how she touches your face when she knows you are upset by things you don't talk about."

"You see all that?"

"Of course I do. She trusts you and loves you, Sherlock. She always has."

Sherlock was silent for a long moment, then opened the laptop again and muttered, "I know, I just don't know what I did to deserve it."

"You exist. That's it, you are here, you are in her life every day, she knows you will be there for her." John sighed. "And it's more than that, kids have a way of just knowing, and she knows. How about when the Christmas Tree stands open today, we take Rosie and pick out a tree?

"Mrs. Hudson has boxes of ornaments downstairs -"

"What if we find Rosie an ornament, her own ornament for the tree. Let's start our own tradition, one that makes sense to us? Something simple, something she will always have and know how much we love her?"

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded, then turned off the laptop and laid it aside. "It's only 2 am, nothing opens for hours, and Rosie usually sleeps another four hours..."

"Whatever should we do?" John's eyes glittered at him, brighter than any fairy lights than Sherlock had ever seen.

"I have a couple of ideas..."

 

Hours later, Sherlock was holding a sleeping Rosie as John kept shifting the tree around the flat.

"Hmm...no, it was better back where it was before. Yes! Yes, right there."

"Are you sure this time?" John rolled his eyes, but then turned and looked over at Sherlock. His hair was still damp from the snow, and his eyes held nothing but joy, sheer unadulterated joy as he looked down at Rosie's peaceful face. He wondered what had caused it, the hours they had spent arguing over trees, or perhaps it was the moment they both saw the tiny cloisonné bell in purple and gold and they glanced at one another, at the moment Rosie reached out for it, and shrieked, 'Bell, Da! Bell, Papa!" Or maybe it was when the snow began, tiny flurries turned into big flakes that caught on Sherlock's eyelashes, and he and Rosie looked up into the sky, he pointed upwards and told her about snow as she stuck her tongue out, then squealed happily.

"It's you, John." Sherlock whispered as he stood up carefully so as not to wake up Rosie, then put her down in the crib they had moved so she could wake up next to the Christmas Tree. "It's not even Christmas Day yet, but you have already given me more than anyone else ever has. Family, you and Rosie are my family, you choose to be my family. You will never know what that means to me." He stopped as he felt John's arm wrap around him and they both stood over Rosie's crib, watching her sleep as the snow continued to fall.


	2. Sixth Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of angst...

It started with a sneeze. 

"I'm okay, Da," Rosie sniffed. 

Sherlock looked at Rosie, and nodded. "How about some tea?"

"With loads of sugar?"

"How else?"

Sherlock made a pot of ginger tea with lemon and loads of sugar, keeping an eye and ear on Rosie. He saw the look in her eyes, he knew that look all too well, from when she was under the weather in the past; her usual brightness was dulled, her skin was a bit flushed, and she was trying so hard to hide how she felt, as she was curled up on the couch while she tried to stay awake during the penguin documentary they were watching. It was two days before Christmas. 

"Tea. Sit up a bit, Ro." Sherlock put a cup in her hands, and waited for her to take a sip. "Did I ever tell you about the year I slept through Christmas?"

Rosie put her cup down carefully and stared at him. "You slept through Christmas?"

Sherlock nodded and patted his lap. She gave him a look, but realised the jig was up, and she curled up in his lap and closed her eyes. "Bet Nana was disappointed."

"Unfortunately, my mum was on a line-dancing trip with my da."

"How old were you?"

"Hmmm...let's just say, I was in my thirties and leave it at that?"

"You were old." Rosie grumbled.

"Even old people get Christmas, you know."

"I know, Da." Rosie turned so she could look at him, and she gave him her best 'don't be an idiot, da' smile. "Story, please."

"Okay. It was a few months before you were born. I had been working nonstop, the criminal classes were incredibly busy that year; your mum and papa tried to have me over for dinner, but I was far too busy. I didn't even realise it was close to Christmas until I began noticing the lights and decorations all over town, and Mrs. Hudson had started her baking."

"Did she make her gingerbread? I love her gingerbread." Rosie yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Yes, she always made gingerbread, made the whole street smell like Christmas."

 

John pushed the door open with his foot, as his arms were full of parcels and bags, and was about to ask for help when he heard Sherlock's voice. He sighed and shook his head as he knew that Rosie wasn't feeling well. He tiptoed as quietly as he could into the kitchen, then turned the kettle on. He sat in the darkened kitchen and listened.

 

"Anyway, it was Christmas Eve, and I had finally caught the bad guy, actually bad guys, it was twins, I know, I know, I always say it's never twins, but this time it was. Your Uncle Greg couldn't stop laughing. I was going to call your papa to tell him, but I was so tired that I just collapsed on the couch, and fell asleep."

"With your coat and shoes on? That kind of tired?" Rosie mumbled.

"That kind of tired. And as it turned out, I had a really bad cold, too."

"You were all sneezy?"

"I was so sneezy I didn't even realise your mum and papa had come over and taken me to their house. When I woke up a day after Christmas, I was in their guest room, at first I was a bit scared because I didn't know where I was, but then your mum came into the room, and gave me a hug. Your mum gave the best hugs. She wished me a Happy Christmas, and shook her head at me when I tried to get up. I asked her how long I had been there, and she said, just a couple of days. Then she left the room and after a few minutes came back with a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits. She sat next to me and made sure I drank my tea."

 

John turned off the kettle before it screamed, and made himself a cup of tea. He went into the front room, sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

 

"When I was feeling better, your mum helped me into the living room, and bundled me up on the couch. They had a huge tree, covered in rainbow lights..."

"But you and Papa like white fairy lights." Rosie objected.

"Your mum loved the rainbow lights, so that's what they had, it was her first real Christmas, she hadn't grown up with a real family, a family that loved her, so your papa made sure she had the Christmas she wanted." Sherlock looked up and saw John sitting in his chair. "Your papa really loved your mum, Ro, and he wanted to make sure she was happy." John turned his head and met Sherlock's eyes then returned his gaze to the tea in his hands. "Anyway, your mum and papa had waited to do Christmas until I was well enough, because it didn't really matter what day it was, it mattered that we were together."

Rosie snuggled closer to Sherlock and sighed. "I'm so glad you are my family, Da. I don't think I tell you that enough."

Sherlock shook his head and kissed her forehead. "I know, Ro, but it's nice to hear. Let's get you to bed, okay?" 

Rosie nodded as Sherlock picked her up in his arms and carried her to bed, then turned on her night light and blew her a kiss before he left her room.

 

Sherlock poured himself a drink and fell into his chair. He took a sip, then ran a hand through his hair and waited.

"I wish it had been that way, not that you were sick, but - I have always wished that Christmas had been different, that we had been a family like that. I wish we'd had a tree, even with the damn rainbow fairy lights."

"I wanted her to know she wasn't going to miss Christmas even if she didn't feel well, the day isn't as important as all of us being together - I have tried to delete that part of my life, the best I could do was rewrite for her and for myself. I still - I still have nightmares from that day, from that week when I thought I would never see Rosie grow up, would never kiss you, or -. It was all my fault -" Sherlock buried his face in his hands and went silent.

John bolted from his chair and knelt in front of Sherlock. "Is that what you've thought all these years? That all of that mess was on your shoulders? You are strong, love, but your shoulders aren't strong enough to carry that burden. Mary and I made mistakes, you made mistakes, but you made yours out of love, love for all three of us, you were willing to leave us, willing to die alone so we could have a life. I've never really been able to thank you, because I've always felt so responsible for everything that came after. If I had just made different choices, waited, had faith -"

Sherlock lifted his head and whispered, "John - you do realise that's ridiculous, if you had made different choices, if you had waited for me - why would you, you thought I was dead, you needed to go on with your life, there was never a guarantee that I would make it back - and John, if you had never met Mary, we wouldn't have Rosie - as difficult as that time was, I would never unwish our daughter. On my worst days, the days when I can barely make it out of bed, she gives me a reason, after everything we've been through, to believe that life is essentially good. I would never trade that for anything."

John leaned against Sherlock's knees and let the silent tears fall. Sherlock draped his arms around him and held him through it.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I -"

"Shhh. No. -"

"PaPA! Da?"

"Coming, Ro!" Sherlock helped John to his feet, and kissed his forehead. "Let's just worry about the things that need worrying about, yeah?"

John nodded and whispered, "Yeah, you're right as always."

"Not always, maybe about 80 percent of the time. Come on, Rosie needs us, maybe juice will help, and grab the box of Kleenex?"

"PaPAAA! DAAAAA!"

"We're coming, Ro."


	3. Twentieth Christmas

"Ro, you're going to wear a hole in the carpet, we just put it in last week. They'll be here. They aren't even late, and your da is one of those perpetually punctual people."

Rosie laughed and kissed Lily's nose. "I'm just nervous."

"Why, it's just your parents - sorry, I know, it's your first time hosting Christmas -"

"Our first time, Lily, it will be their first time here, and I just want them to see -"

"Ro, sweet, they know -" Lily squeezed Rosie's hand and sniffed the air. "Treacle tarts are ready - go check them and I'll let them in. Breathe, love, go pour yourself a glass of wine and try to relax."

"Right. You're right, you're always right."

"Go."

"Going."

A moment later there was a knock at the door. Lily closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and swung open the door.

"Right on time, as always!" Sherlock grinned and gave Lily a kiss on each cheek as he walked into the flat. John followed right behind and handed Lily a bottle of wine. 

"We were almost one minute late because Sherlock was searching for the perfect wine that he knew was 'somewhere.' Luckily it was right where he left it, next to Billy. How are you, Lily?" John gave her a hug, then nodded at Sherlock and an enormous Christmas bag. "We have a surprise for her, hopefully it will be a nice one." 

Lily kissed John's cheek, and searched his eyes. "I'm sure she will love it. Now come, sit down, we found a couple of chairs that reminded us of the two of you and luckily they went with our mishmash of furniture."

Sherlock placed the bag he had been carrying on the floor next to 'his' chair and sat carefully. "Ahhh...perfect fit, it's lovely, Lily. Now where is Rosie - and is that Mrs. Hudson's treacle tart I smell?"

Rosie entered the room on cue, and gave John a hug, then looked down at Sherlock. "Chair fits you perfectly, just as I thought." She glanced over at Lily and smiled a bit uncertainly, "We thought. Uhm. Well, dinner is ready - if you're hungry?"

Sherlock got up slowly from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. "Starving, smells lovely, Rosie."

 

After the treacle tarts had been taken care of and they were all sitting around the Christmas tree, decorated simply in white fairy lights, "we don't have any ornaments yet, one day we will, but for now..." Sherlock cleared his throat and glanced at John nervously.

"You may recall that for the last nineteen Christmases, your papa and I have given you an ornament every Christmas since your first Christmas at Baker Street?"

Rosie nodded and bit her lip.

"Well, I thought, we thought, your papa and I want you to have them for your own tree, and we brought them tonight, along with a brand new one, for this year's Christmas. We weren't sure if it would be too much, or -"

"Da." Rosie got up from the couch and knelt in front of Sherlock and John. "Papa. You couldn't have picked a better present for me, for us, Will you stay and help us hang them up?"

Sherlock nodded and looked over at John with a grin. "Told you so."

"You were right, as always, love."


End file.
